


Of Lonely Nights and Handwritten Words

by glittercat



Category: Jethro Tull (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pining, Unrequited Love, Writing songs for a former bandmate at 12 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercat/pseuds/glittercat
Summary: Ian writes yet another song for a certain bass player-turned-art student.





	1. Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because Ian writing songs for Jeffrey is a beautiful concept + one of my favorite things ever. Probably not as serious as the title makes it sound.

_March 18th, 1969_

Ian Anderson has never been much of a night owl. This may come as a surprise, considering his busy musician lifestyle, but he's never been one to stay up later than he absolutely must. He prefers to wake up early and get the day started right away, which usually requires him to get to sleep at a reasonable time- that is, if he doesn't want to be cranky and unproductive then next day. Ian Anderson does not stay up late.

However, things have been a little different lately.

Ian sits on the bed in his little apartment, strumming away on his guitar. He's spent the past half hour playing around with different chords, and scrawling down anything that sounds half-decent onto the pad of paper on the bedside table. It’s a little past midnight now. The lamp on the table is the only source of light in the room, casting a soft glow on Ian's guitar and illuminating his handwritten words.

It's been two years since Jeffrey left the band and Ian’s missing him like crazy. Ian has gotten along well enough with most of the musicians he’s worked with, but there was just something very different about Jeffrey. He was so compelling to watch, so charismatic; when he was on stage it was hard to look away. Sure, he wasn’t the best musician, but he was trying, and his stage presence made up for his less-than-stellar musical abilities. Everything about Jeffrey was unique- from the way he dressed, to his soft, sweet voice, to those mysterious dark eyes that made Ian feel just a little bit weak in the knees sometimes.

And now he’s gone, probably off with some new friends from art school. He really was a damned good artist, although he never seemed to believe that when Ian told him. He even claimed that this was part of why he wanted to go to art school in the first place- as much as he loved painting, he didn’t think he was any good at it. He figured art school would be a good option for getting better.

So that’s where things stand right now: Jeffrey is doing what he can to improve his already-amazing art skills so that he can one day make a living as an artist, and it’s been what feels like forever since he and Ian have seen each other, and Ian is dealing with this in the only way he really knows: he's writing songs.

Ian has learned that writing is the best way for him to cope with his own emotions. Getting things down on paper, even if they're in the most abstract terms, has always helped him to make sense of what he's feeling.

Tonight he's not looking to make sense of anything, though. He knows exactly what he's feeling.

He looks over the words on the page again. They seem too sweet, too fluffy, almost too vulnerable. These are not lyrics that he’d ever share with the rest of the band. He almost feels silly doing this in the first place- it’s not like Jeffrey’s ever going to hear this song anyway. Jeffrey has gone off to art school, and Ian hasn’t seen him in what feels like an eternity, and their paths may never cross again. The thought makes Ian’s heart ache worse than it did before.

Without the strumming of the guitar, the world is silent. Ian is caught up in a moment of nostalgia, equal parts sweet and painful. So many things Ian wishes he'd said, so many memories that he didn't appreciate enough at the time. He can’t help but wonder what would happen if he and Jeffrey met again now- would the connection still be there? Would there be some massive exchange of heartfelt words and confessions, or would they just chat for a moment and then go their separate ways, both too shy to really speak their minds?

It’s almost too much for Ian to think about at this point in the night. Looking over his written words once more, he decides that it's probably time to get some rest. He puts his guitar away and turns off the light.

Before climbing into bed, Ian peeks through the curtains. It’s a relatively clear night, with plenty of stars visible in the sky, and he takes a moment to observe. Jeffrey had once talked about painting a night sky. He thought it would look best on a really big canvas, maybe a bedroom wall or something of that sort- something big enough to really show the vastness of the subject matter. Ian remembers jokingly saying that Jeffrey was invited to paint the sky on his bedroom wall anytime he wanted, as long as Ian wasn’t the one supplying the paint.

Ian falls asleep that night thinking of the night sky, and all the mysterious dark hues hidden within it, and all its twinkling stars, and Jeffrey.


	2. Sunlight

_October 24th, 1970_

It's unseasonably warm and sunny for this time of year. Light streams through the windows of the little coffee shop, glistening off the counters and tables inside.

Ian has brought along pages of mostly finished material- lyrics and melodies and a few ideas that are still works-in-progress- to show to Martin. It's stuff that he wrote with the intent of recording with the rest of the band, but right now it looks like that might not be happening for a while- at least, not until they've found someone who can play bass for them.

"I just don't know what we’re gonna do," sighs Ian. "I wanna start get this stuff recorded, but obviously that's not gonna happen without Glenn. And I really don't want to deal with the whole audition process again."

"Well, we’ll find someone eventually. These things happen. There's really no way of getting around that," Martin replies.

"I know." Ian shuffles the papers in front of him. "It's just such a hassle to deal with it."

"Y’know, I met an interesting fellow the other day. Said he used to play bass in a band with some friends." Martin muses. "It just reminded me of that little thing you did in grammar school… with, uh, John Evan and the rest of them."

"Huh. Interesting. Did this guy say if he was ever any good?" Ian laughs at his own question. As if some guy that Martin met around town would become their new bass player. As if it were that easy.

"Nah. He said that he was pretty bad- doesn't even play any more. I even told him my band was in need of a new bass player, but he didn't seem interested. He told me he's studying art now." Martin takes a sip of his coffee. "The people you meet sometimes, ‘ey?"

Ian doesn't respond right away. He just stares out the window for a moment. Surely it can't be… no. That would be too much of a coincidence. Things never work out quite this well.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Um, did you catch this guy’s name?"

"Oh. Yeah. Uh… it was something with a J. Not Jerry, but something like that… ugh. It's on the tip of my tongue."

"It wasn't, uh- it wasn't Jeffrey, was it?"

"Yeah, actually! That was it. He introduced himself with his full name- _my name’s Jeffrey Hammond,_ he said to me. Was kind of strange."

Ian nearly drops his mug of coffee.


End file.
